


Worth Waiting For or Five Times Jonny told Patrick he loved him (and one time Patrick told Jonny)

by CoffeeKristin



Series: Just an Old Fashioned Love Song or Five Times Jonny and Patrick Didn't Play Hockey (and One Time They Did) [6]
Category: Hockey RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: 5+1 Things, Anal Sex, Getting Together, M/M, Nipple Play, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7677241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeKristin/pseuds/CoffeeKristin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jonny tells Patrick he loves him is when they find out they both made the Hawks. Patrick’s not foolish enough to believe he means it the way Patrick wishes he did, but he can be honest enough with himself to admit that he’s almost as excited to hear Jonny say “I love you!” as he was to hear Savvy tell them they made the team.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Waiting For or Five Times Jonny told Patrick he loved him (and one time Patrick told Jonny)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frosting50](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frosting50/gifts).



> Wow, so almost 33K words later, I finally finished this series. I blame Katie, who gave me the idea of doing a series of AUs where Jonny and Patrick meet through work, and then bullied me into writing it for her. I also thank Katie for always being willing to plot out these things and gently guide me when I go astray (which happens a lot). Deep appreciation also to svmadelyn, who put on the challenge that kicked my ass into gear to actually write them, and my teammates on Team Awesome for their support and encouragement, even if I didn't finish within the proscribed timeline. Thanks to celtprincess and Sue for their always excellent beta assistance with this and other editions. 
> 
> And a special thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on this - it really inspired me to keep going, knowing that people were enjoying these fics. You guys rock!

1 

The first time Jonny tells Patrick he loves him is when they find out they both made the Hawks. Patrick’s not foolish enough to believe he means it the way Patrick wishes he did, but he can be honest enough with himself to admit that he’s almost as excited to hear Jonny say “I love you!” as he was to hear Savvy tell them they made the team.

“Patrick!” Jonny whoops when he and Patrick emerge from Savvy’s office. “We did it, we did it!” He picks Patrick up and swings him around clumsily, knocking Patrick’s legs into an equipment rack. “We fucking did it!!”

Patrick grins down at him, a little dizzy from the spinning and the force of the smile splitting Jonny’s face. “Course we did, asshole! I fucking told you!” He pulls Jonny close, letting himself duck his head into Jonny’s neck for a moment, and smiles against the warm, sweaty skin there.

“Jesus, I’m so - this is -”

“I know, I know,” Patrick laughs, patting Jonny’s back.

“I just - I love you, man,” Jonny says, squeezing Patrick close, and Patrick freezes for a second. Jonny must feel it because he apologizes and loosens his grip, although he doesn’t put Patrick down, just swings him around again, laughing and muttering how they’re gonna tear it up, how he just knows Patrick’s gonna be amazing. When he finally lets Patrick slide down to his own feet, he’s still raving about what they’re gonna do this year. “And the Calder is all you, man - I just, I have the best feeling about it.”

“Shut up, what even,” Patrick says, face heating like it always does when Jonny compliments him, equal parts embarrassed and proud and preening in the knowledge that Jonny loves his hockey.

“No, I do - not that I’m not gonna give you a run for your money,” Jonny says seriously, and that makes Patrick laugh, because no matter what, he can count on Jonny being a competitive fuck, even when he’s praising Patrick.

“Competitive fuck,” is all he says, though, and Jonny nods, quick and sharp.

“You know it. Gotta make sure you bring it every night, and if Savvy’s really gonna put us on a line together, you know I’m gonna make sure to set you up for those highlight reel goals you like to score.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe I’ll be the one setting you up for goals, ever think of that?” Jonny’s always on Patrick to take more shots on net, not to always defer to the pass, but Patrick knows that his playmaking is the best part of his game, and most of why he got drafted first overall. “Just park that giant, dorky ass by the net and I’ll make you look good, baby.”

“Hey, someone has to go to the dirty areas, not play the princess of the perimeter all the time,” Jonny chirps back, his grin the wide, open one he’s seemed to reserve for Patrick since they met as thirteen year-olds. The chirp’s just as familiar, and like always, it stirs Patrick into defending his game, and soon they’re bickering their way back into the locker room. The only people there are Sharpy and Brouwer, and when Sharpy sees their faces, he gathers them into his arms, laughing and congratulating them, too.

“Shoulda known you two would be pains in my ass for the next year,” Sharpy sighs, shaking his head, when they finally settle down.

“Pretty sure that’s the other way around,” Patrick laughs. They haven’t been around the team long, but Patrick’s already realized that befriending Sharpy is the best way to avoid his constant harassment.

“Only for Mr. Tight Ass over there,” Sharpy says, jerking his thumb at Jonny. “Can’t wait to get him on the road, see if he ever unclenches.”

“Don’t you mean Mr. Big Ass?” Brouwer teases, holding up his hands when Jonny glares at him. “Come on, Jonny, you gotta admit, it’s an impressively large ass.”

“Yeah, and it’s probably got a stick in it that’s turned to diamond,” Sharpy says. “Never saw a rookie like this one, have you?”

“No, he’s in a class all by himself,” Brouwer rejoins.

“A class for losers,” Sharpy nods.

Jonny’s clearly in a great mood, because he just grins at Sharpy. “Aw, you know you love me as much as I love you, Sharpy.”

And Patrick has to turn away, pretending he can’t find his tape in his locker, because he knows he can’t keep his face under control as the happy, fizzy feeling he got from hearing those words a few minutes earlier fades.

So, yeah, Patrick’s not dumb enough to think Jonny means what he wants him to mean, but it doesn’t make it any easier to get over.

2

“What a fucking pass!” Jonny shouts into Patrick’s ear the first time he scores off a primary assist Patrick tossed up to him: a perfect saucer that Jonny took in full stride, racing down to the net, deking out the defensemen and then capping it off with a sick toe drag before juking the goalie enough that the goal itself is a simple tap in. It’s one of the best goals Patrick’s ever seen. Patrick’s late to the scrum, but Jonny makes room, pushing his helmet into Patrick’s and hugging him close.

“Forget the pass, Tazer, what a fucking goal!” Patrick screams back, laughing as he gets pummelled by the other guys in the scrum, the crowd going bananas. When Jonny gets to the bench Patrick pulls him against his side briefly, and they look up to watch the goal again, Patrick almost more awed to see it from the overhead shot.

“Jesus, those are some fucking amazing moves,” Patrick says, his voice raised above the cheers of the crowd, which is still on its feet. Even if the arena isn’t full, the sound is cacophonous in his ears. “Hear that? That’s all for you, man.”

Jonny ducks his head, still huffing and puffing from the exertion of their shift, his face as red as ever, but Patrick thinks a little of it is due to the words he’s spewing into Jonny’s ear. He’s not even really listening to himself, not even thinking straight because he’s just feeling so much, he can’t keep it all in. It probably shouldn’t be a surprise when he blurts, “So fucking hot, man.”

Jonny’s head jerks up and he looks at Patrick with shock.

“I mean, uh, the hockey! Your hockey is hot - not, I don’t - ” Patrick backtracks, wide-eyed, and Jonny laughs, a little forced, and knocks his shoulder. “Jon, I really - “

“Nah, I get it, man, no biggie,” Jonny says, but he looks out over the ice, avoiding Patrick’s eyes, and Patrick swallows and lets a silence build between them, only breaking it when Ruutu muffs a shot on net a minute later. “Jesus, someone needs to teach that guy how to finish.”

“Right?” Jonny says, watching as Ruutu bangs his stick on the boards in frustration before he climbs back onto the bench.

“Hey, Roots, next time try glove side, Theodore always cheats to the left, and he won’t expect it,” Patrick says, leaning across Jonny so Ruutu can hear him. “You got it, man.”

Jonny’s got a little grin pulling at his mouth as he watches, and when Patrick sits back he’s nodding at Patrick approvingly.

“What?” Patrick asks a little defensively. He’s a rookie, he doesn’t have an A, but he and his grandpa watched a ton of tape over the summer, and he knows these goalies, so Jonny can just shut up if he disapproves.

“Nothing, just, you’re good at that, helping people, motivating them, encouraging them,” Jonny shrugs. “You know your shit, man, and you’re not afraid to chip in without being, you know - ”

“An over-serious, know-it-all?” Patrick says, sticking his tongue into his cheek. “Like someone I could mention?”

“Hey!” Jonny says, but he’s laughing. “I’m not serious!”

“Sure you’re not, Jon,” Patrick says placatingly. “Sure you’re not.”

Jonny grumbles under his breath, but he’s got a little smile; and Patrick thinks they weathered that little slip of his earlier okay, something that’s confirmed when he scores his first NHL goal a little later in the game, off a turnover, slipping it past Theodore glove side, just like he’d told Ruutu.

“You fucking beauty!” Jonny screams again, leaping into Patrick’s arms in the scrum. “Love you, babe!”

Something in Patrick relaxes at the words, and he puts his stupid slip behind him, hoping that Jonny never realizes how much he aches for Jonny to mean it about more than just his hockey.

3

Patrick’s grin is starting to hurt his face, and he’s scanning the crowd of players, official Stanley Cup champions hat on -- _holy fuck, he’s a Stanley Cup champion_ \-- looking for Jonny, when a familiar weight plows into him. 

“Kaner, oh my God, Kaner, you - I knew you’d do it, baby!”

“Jonny, holy fuck!” Patrick pulls Jonny into a fierce hug. “We did it!”

“ _You did it!”_ Jonny repeats. “I love you, man!”

“Love you, Jonny, way to step up big!” Patrick responds, giddy, letting himself grip Jonny tighter for a moment, before they mutually let go, and Patrick moves on to the next hug. 

The happiness flowing through him from the Cup win and Jonny’s affection sweep him through the next few minutes until it’s time for the Conn Smythe presentation. Bettmann hands Jonny the award, and Jonny looks for Patrick, pointing at him. “Shoulda been you,” he yells fondly. Patrick can only shake his head and laugh, because of course Jonny thinks that, of course he has to share the award with Patrick.

They meet up again in the locker room, the celebration on the ice a blur, Patrick wiping champagne out of his eyes when Jonny sweeps him into another hug, this time in just their t-shirts. Patrick thinks it’s the first time they’ve hugged without pads on in years, and he can feel the smile break across his face when Jonny tugs him closer. Patrick hasn’t even gotten his skates off, so he’s almost the same height as Jonny, and it reminds him of the hug almost four years ago -- in the hallway outside of Savvy’s office -- Jonny holding Patrick up high against his chest. Patrick’s suffused with warmth at the memory of how strong Jonny was, even then, still a teenager.

“Fucking amazing,” Jonny laughs, drunk already, just like Patrick, too much beer on top of too many minutes on the ice, and if he’s anything like Patrick, alcohol has been their only hydration since they won. “You’re fucking amazing, Kaner, Pat, just - “

“Hey, guys, look over here!” The photographers want an image of them holding the cup above their heads, and Patrick obligingly lets go of Jonny to take one side, lifting it up while Jonny does the same next to him, one arm around Patrick. The flashes from the cameras blind Patrick a little and he blinks, dazed, happy, and for once, lets himself enjoy the fond look Jonny throws his way without any self recrimination.

4 

The 2013 championship banner is going up, everyone in the UC watching as it ascends, when Jonny grabs hold of Patrick, pulling him into his side, arm heavy across Patrick’s shoulders.

“Two time champs,” Jonny marvels for about the hundredth time, not that Patrick ever tires of hearing it. “Unfucking real.” He hugs Patrick tighter, so tight that Patrick can’t even get his own arm around Jonny to reciprocate. “Nobody I’d rather do this with, babe. Love you.”

Patrick sneaks a look at Jonny, but he’s watching the banner, the arena so dark that Patrick can barely make out his features. He lets himself look for a long moment, not really paying attention to the ceremony. “We’re gonna do it again,” he whispers fiercely, and Jonny turns to look at him. “We’re gonna do it again.”

“Damn right we are,” Jonny says, getting it, getting that Patrick is never satisfied, not even when the evidence of their Cup win hasn’t yet been put into place in the rafters of the UC. Not even when Patrick’s the reigning Conn Smythe winner. “Told you we’d fill this place up.”

“You meant people, Jon, don’t even,” Patrick snorts.

Jonny grins at him, teeth flashing white in the dim light. “Aw, come on, Kaner, you gotta admit, it looks a lot better with those hanging up there,” Just as he says it, the banner slides into place, and the music swells, so loud they don’t say anything else, content to just be in each other’s presence in this place that they grew up in; this place they helped bring back to life.

5 

Patrick’s beyond frustrated with his play by the time game six rolls around, but they’re on the brink of winning the Cup on home ice for the first time in a million years, so he’s trying to keep a lid on it. _It’s not about you, it’s about the team,_ he reminds himself for the hundredth time, just as Jonny sits down next to him on the bus.

They don’t usually sit together, but they almost always walk off the bus together, so it’s not a complete surprise for Jonny to take the seat next to him. Patrick just nods and goes back to listening to his music, trying not to brood about how he hasn’t scored a goal in the Final yet.

Jonny pulls on his sleeve to get his attention, and Patrick sighs and shuts off his iPod, taking off his headphones. “What?” He knows he’s being short with Jonny, but he’s in no mood to hear how assists matter as much as goals or whatever captainly bullshit Jonny’s gonna blather about.

“Hey, I know what you’re going through,” is all Jonny says. “You know I’m just as pissed off at the defense they’re playing against us both.”

“I know, but,” Patrick bites his lip. “You do a lot more than score goals or set up plays. You’re out there killing penalties, matched up against Stamkos. And you scored in Game Four.”

“I know, but you’re drawing the toughest matchups,” Jonny asserts, ever loyal; and Patrick can’t help it, he’s a sucker for Jonny defending him, so he smiles a little at him.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, you can stop now,” Patrick says. “Save the ‘rah rah’ captain stuff for the rookies.”

“No, that’s not why I sat down,” Jonny says, grabbing Patrick’s wrist. “Pat, I had a dream about you last night.”

“You - what?” Patrick’s distracted by Jonny’s hand on his wrist, thumb rubbing a little over the scar tissue from his surgery. It’s almost unconscious, and it warms Patrick from the inside.

“I dreamed about you, and you were on fire; it was amazing,” Jonny says. “You couldn’t miss. And I think it means that everything you touch tonight is gonna turn to gold.”

“Jonny…” Patrick says helplessly. 

“So, you know,” Jonny says, red-faced, looking down at where he’s still holding onto Patrick’s wrist. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got this, babe.”

“I - yeah,” Patrick says breathlessly. “I guess I do. If you think I can do it, I can do it.”

“See, that’s why I love you,” Jonny says, looking back up to capture Patrick’s eyes. “Because you always rise to the occasion, you always want to live up to expectations. And you always come through.”

Jonny’s been telling Patrick he loves him for years, and Patrick knows that Jonny doesn’t mean it the way Patrick so desperately wants him to. But tonight? Tonight there’s a look in Jonny’s eyes that hasn’t been there before, like he’s saying something more.

“You - “ Patrick swallows. “Jon - do you? Really?” He feels like he’s standing at the edge of a cliff, terrified and exhilarated and not sure if he’s gonna be able to survive what happens next.

“Pat,” Jonny says gently, like he knows how tenuous Patrick’s grip on himself is. “I’ve been telling you for years. When are you gonna listen? What do I have to do to make you believe me?”

And that’s - it’s a rush, and it’s amazing, and Patrick can’t help the enormous grin he can feel spreading across his face, even if he knows it’s gonna get him chirped by Sharpy and Seabs if they see him looking at Jonny like this. “Yeah?” When Jonny just keeps staring, rolling his eyes but still looking so soft and fond, Patrick hitches in a breath and leaps. “Because - “

“Not now,” Jonny interrupts hurriedly. “I want - hell, I’ve been waiting for you to finally get this, to hear it _from_ you for almost nine years, longer, really, but I -” He glances around the bus. They’ve just pulled into the underground parking lot at the UC, and the other guys are starting to shuffle into line to walk into their locker room for the last time this year, win or lose. “Not until after, okay? When we’ve won, then you can tell me. Okay?”

“Sure,” Patrick croaks, relieved and impatient, all at the same time. “That - yeah, Jonny, that’s fine. That’s great.”

“Good,” Jonny says, face determined. “Now let’s go win another Stanley Cup.”

+1

It’s been almost a week since they won the Cup, and Patrick’s bone tired, the best kind of exhausted: happy, wrung out, his whole body yearning for sleep. Which of course means instead of climbing into his bed, he’s ringing Jonny’s doorbell.

When Jonny lets him in, he looks so good. His nose is still a little sunburned from the day they all spent on Lake Michigan yesterday, but the rest of him has started to deepen into the golden tan he wears all summer. Patrick is so gone for him. He wants to climb him like a tree, crawl inside his arms, and never leave. He wants Jonny to hold him close, hold him down. He just _wants_ \-- has wanted, for years -- and he can’t believe that there’s a chance he might get what he’s aching for, finally.

“Hi,” is all he says, quiet in the hush of the huge home Jonny bought.

“Hi,” Jonny returns, his mouth quirking up at the corner. “So.”

“So.” Patrick shuffles his feet a little. “You gonna invite me in, or what?”

“Why of course, Patrick, won’t you please come in?” Jonny says obsequiously, sweeping his arm out and bowing.

Patrick snorts, but Jonny’s silliness helps break the awkwardness. He follows Jonny through the house, climbing too many stairs -- and complaining half-heartedly the whole time, knowing Jonny’s rolling his eyes just from the set of his shoulders -- until they’re outside on the roof deck, the night sky dark above their heads. It’s a beautiful evening, warm but with a breeze, and it feels like summer has finally come to Chicago, late but welcome nonetheless.

Jonny grabs them both a beer, and they sit down, Patrick on the couch and Jonny in the chair. That awkward silence rises again until Patrick can’t take it anymore. “So, you love me,” he blurts out, and Jonny chokes on his beer, coughing and red faced. 

“Jesus, man, warn a guy,” Jonny gasps when he can finally speak, wiping his face.

“Sorry,” Patrick says sheepishly. “I just - do you?”

“Patrick,” Jonny says, his voice fond, “I’ve been saying it for _nine years_ ; how are you only just _now_ getting it?”

“But, it wasn’t - that was hockey!” Patrick protests. “It didn’t - that didn’t count! I didn’t think you meant it like, like - You said it on the ice! I didn’t think you meant it!”

“Well, it _did_ count, and I _did_ mean it. Do mean it,” Jonny says earnestly, putting down his beer and getting down on his knees in front of Patrick. He takes Patrick’s face in his hands. “But let me say it right, okay?”

Patrick swallows and nods, and his hands circle Jonny’s wrists, trembling faintly. Jonny smiles at him, his face warm and open, and - and loving. The look is so familiar that Patrick can’t believe he didn’t realize what it meant all the other times Jonny’s looked at him like this over the years.

“Patrick Kane, I love you.” 

Patrick has to close his eyes for a moment, letting the words wash over him, and Jonny must get it; he pauses, his thumb brushing over Patrick’s cheek gently, waiting for Patrick, knowing exactly what he needs. When Patrick opens his eyes again, Jonny’s smile widens. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we were kids playing in tournaments together, since we played against each other in World Juniors, since we were drafted, since we made the team, since we helped bring back this franchise, since we won our first Cup, and second, and third.” Jonny’s eyes are shining a little -- deep brown and so gorgeous -- and staring at Patrick like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen. “I’ve just been waiting for you to notice, man.”

“But - “

“I’ve told you often enough,” Jonny says, shaking his head, amused and fond and not a little impatient.

“But Jonny,” Patrick says again, and Jonny tsks and pulls him in, pressing their mouths together.  
Patrick gasps, and Jonny takes advantage of his lips parting to lick inside, curling his tongue around Patrick’s and then sweeping it across the roof of his mouth. The tickling sensation sends an arrow of heat to Patrick’s core, making him moan. He opens his mouth wider, and Jonny takes that as the invitation it is, diving in and overwhelming Patrick, fucking his mouth, sucking on his tongue, licking and biting at Patrick’s lips until they feel like they’re on fire. When he breaks the kiss, pulling back a little, Patrick follows him blindly, whining deep in his throat when Jonny doesn’t let him close enough to kiss him again.

“What?” Patrick whines, his voice hoarse, and Jonny chuckles, standing up and pulling Patrick into his arms. 

“Come here, asshole,” Jonny says, kissing him again. “You’re too far away like that.”

“Oh,” Patrick says, and arches into Jonny’s embrace, clutching at his arms as he plunders Patrick’s mouth again before kissing a trail down Patrick’s jaw and neck, sucking a mark into the hollow at the base of his throat until Patrick’s hips are hitching, and he’s shuddering with need. 

“Jonny, Jonny,” Patrick’s chanting, “Please, oh my God, that’s…” Patrick has to clamp his mouth shut on a wail when Jonny bites over his collarbone, the sharp pain dissolving into a warmth that suffuses his entire body. “You’re gonna make me come in my pants, Jesus, Jon, please…”

Jonny pulls back again, and Patrick whines, a desperate, breathy noise that makes Jonny growl and kiss him again, fiercely, quickly, before he leans his forehead against Patrick’s. “You know, I have a bed downstairs,” Jonny says, voice deep with arousal. “A bed I’ve spent a lot of time jerking off in, thinking about you.”

“You - “ Patrick has to swallow around the flood of saliva in his mouth. “Jonny - “

“Thinking about fucking you,” Jonny says, his voice deeper. “Opening you up and sliding inside and wrecking you.” Patrick moans, and Jonny pulls back. “Would you like that, Pat?”

“Yes,” Patrick says, hesitating, because - he’s never and he thinks -- he _knows_ \-- he wants to but…

“What?” Jonny asks. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, that’s fine, we don’t have to - “

“No, no, I want to, it’s just, uh. I haven’t? Before? So.”

“Oh,” Jonny says, and now he’s hesitating. “You - Really, Peeks?”

“I mean, I’ve thought about it, but it never felt right and I just - “

“Oh my God, how are you real?” Jonny moans, and he kisses Patrick again, over and over. “I love you, Peeks. Pat. Baby.”

When Jonny bites his ear, it makes Patrick giggle, and the giggles quickly turn into delighted, elated laughter, making Jonny pull back.

“What?”

“I’m just so fucking happy, man,” Patrick says, his smile growing at the dumb, confused look on Jonny’s face. His hair’s a mess, his lips swollen, the skin around his mouth red from Patrick’s stubble, remnants of Patrick shaving his beard off earlier that day. He’s gorgeous, and he loves Patrick and suddenly all Patrick wants to do is shout it to the city: _“Jonathan Toews loves me!”_

He doesn’t though, because this is for him and Jonny, at least for now; but he does manage to get ahold of his laughter until he can speak again, Jonny waiting patiently, a fond smile on his face, and Jesus, how dumb is Patrick that it took this long to figure out what Jonny’s been saying?

“Jonny,” Patrick says. “I love you.”

“Yeah?” Jonny grins at him, his face lighting up.

“Yeah,” Patrick says, then tilts his head, peeking up at Jonny through his lashes. “Now take me downstairs and fuck me?”

“As you wish,” Jonny says, because he’s a dork, and he knows how much Patrick loves that movie and God, how did Patrick get so lucky that this amazing man is in love with him? 

Patrick doesn’t have any time to consider that question because Jonny’s growling again, pulling him by the hand and leading him down to his bedroom, pushing aside the sheets and stripping Patrick and then himself, throwing everything on the floor. It reminds Patrick of how their hotel rooms always looked, clothes everywhere -- water bottles and energy bar wrappers a constant hazard on the floor -- and he laughs again.

“What?” Jonny asks, emerging from his shirt and adding it to the chaos. “Are you always this giggly when you have sex?”

“No, fuck you,” Patrick snorts, then ruins it by giggling again. Jonny raises a judgmental eyebrow, and Patrick flips him off. “It’s nothing, just, some things never change,” Patrick says, gesturing at the growing pile on the floor. “You’re still a slob.”

“Fuck off,” Jonny says with a grin and drops his shorts, stepping out of his underwear, and that sobers Patrick up pretty quickly because _holy mother of God_ that’s Jonny’s dick. And his body is thin, still bruised in places from their playoff run, but it’s gorgeous; and it’s perfect, and Patrick’s mouth waters again, because he wants to taste him everywhere. 

“Like what you see?” Jonny preens -- fucking exhibitionist -- palming his cock to full hardness as Patrick watches. It’s a good size, as gorgeous as the rest of him, growing even larger under Patrick’s eyes, until he’s not sure he’s going to be able do this, because it’s never going to fit.

“It’s - you’re -” Patrick stutters, not sure what he means to say, and Jonny -- Jonny blushes -- a beautiful red flush that extends down his chest, and he’s so ridiculously hot that it makes Patrick’s cock leap. 

He stands up and drags Jonny in close so he can get his mouth on Jonny’s skin, see if it’s as warm as it looks, and it is. He can feel Jonny’s blood under his skin, soft over firm muscle, and Patrick revels in it, licking and sucking his own mark above Jonny’s heart. “God, I love you.”

“Love you, Peeks,” Jonny echoes, tilting Patrick’s head up to capture his mouth again. He walks them back to the bed, pushing Patrick down gently. “Lay on the pillow while I get the stuff.”

Patrick watches, his eyes half-lidded, as Jonny opens a drawer and pulls out lube and a condom and tosses them on the bed. He looks at Patrick and puts another one on the nightstand. Patrick swallows and strokes his cock loosely. “Yeah?”

“Definitely,” Jonny says. “I’m not letting you out of this bed until you’ve fucked me, but first - “ he crawls on top of Patrick. “First I’ve gotta get inside of you, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.”

“Jonny,” Patrick gasps, the feeling of Jonny’s naked body pressing him down into the bed, of their skin touching _everywhere_ makes him jerk. “You can’t say shit like that, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Isn’t that the general idea?” Jonny laughs, licking the mark he made earlier on Patrick’s throat, then moving lower to catch a nipple in his mouth. Patrick bucks under him, but Jonny presses him flat, holding him down with a hand around each bicep, not letting him move, just making him take it while he licks and sucks, biting at his nipple until Patrick’s writhing, the sensations overwhelming him.

“These have been tormenting me for years,” Jonny murmurs as he switches over to the other nipple, sucking it hard and grinning when the pressure makes Patrick shudder. “Always standing up under your shirts, so hard and tight, and I just wanted to do this - “ he bites gently, then a little more firmly, until Patrick whimpers, his mouth dropping open. His other nipple is still throbbing, the cool air conditioning in Jonny’s bedroom amplifying how hot the abused, wet skin feels. 

“So sensitive, Peeks.” Jonny suckles at the swollen point, his eyes closing and cheeks hollowing in a gentle rhythm that combines to overtake Patrick’s senses, and he has to look away or he really is going to come. And as usual, Jonny’s in tune with Patrick, groaning against Patrick’s skin. “Can you come just from this, Pat?” He bites lightly, bringing his other hand up to pinch at his other nipple, so sensitive now that it’s almost painful, and Patrick shudders again, panting now, thrusting up against Jonny’s leg. “Yeah, baby, rub up against me, show me how much you love this.”

Patrick whines, deep in his throat, and Jonny grins before biting down, lightly, then harder, tugging and plucking at Patrick’s other nipple, grinding his fingernail into it, and Patrick can’t catch his breath, caught up in the bright lines of pain and pleasure arcing from his chest to his cock, and suddenly he’s coming, thrusting against Jonny’s leg, tugging desperately against Jonny’s grip on his nipples but not able to get anywhere with how Jonny’s holding him down with the weight of his body. When Patrick finally stops spasming, he realizes he’s whimpering and Jonny’s lips are still sealed around his nipple, his other hand petting Patrick’s side, gentling him.

“Too much, too much,” Patrick whines, overwhelmed, and Jonny lets go, kissing his nipple one more time, making Patrick hiss. “Sore, please stop, please.”

“Shh, babe, you’re okay,” Jonny murmurs, moving up to kiss Patrick, lowering his body just enough to brush against Patrick’s nipples and he’s astonished when the pressure wrings another spurt of come out of his cock. Jonny smiles against his lips, gentling Patrick when he moans. “So good, so hot, you’re so fucking hot like this, Pat.”

“Jon,” Patrick croaks once he’s finally recovered the ability to speak, long minutes later. He can feel how hard Jonny is, his cock leaking a wet trail against Patrick’s hip. “Don’t you want - are you gonna fuck me?” 

Jonny groans and ruts against him, kissing him deeply. “You sure?” Jonny asks, but he’s opening the lube as he speaks, and Patrick watches in a daze as Jonny grabs Patrick’s leg and pulls it out and to the side, hoisting his ankle over his shoulder until Patrick’s completely exposed. He whines a little, and Jonny caresses his calf even as he moves his hand down, parting Patrick’s legs a little more so his other leg is angled out and Patrick can feel cool air over his hole. 

“This okay?” Jonny asks, rubbing a wet finger over Patrick’s perineum, and Patrick nods, holding his breath. Jonny doesn’t enter him, though, just watches Patrick as he rubs his finger in small circles, over and over, a gentle touch that doesn’t move up or down, waiting until Patrick has to breathe. As he inhales, Jonny’s finger glides down and over Patrick’s hole, and then there’s a blunt, foreign feeling as Jonny presses firmly until he’s through the muscle and inside Patrick.

Patrick’s always wondered what the fuss is about getting fucked, never having much interest in guys outside of Jonny anyway. He’s never even fingered himself, and right now, he’s pretty sure he’s not been missing out. “Ugh, that feels so weird,” he complains and Jonny makes a face at him and moves his finger a little deeper, then deeper still, until Patrick can feel Jonny’s knuckles bumping up against his cheeks. The drag as Jonny pulls out is weirder still, and Patrick grunts and tugs at Jonny’s grip on his leg, shifting a little, embarrassed and not turned on at all. “Why do people do this?”

“Wait, give me a second,” Jonny says, patient as ever, and Patrick sighs and flops back against the pillows with a huff, and it releases the tension in his body in a way that makes the glide of Jonny’s finger a little smoother. “Yeah, that’s it, relax and just - “ Jonny contorts his face a little, searching and then touches something that makes Patrick feel like he’s been electrified.

“What the fuck!” Patrick squeaks, coughing as he inhales a little too wetly. “What the fuck is that?”

“Your prostate, dumbass,” Jonny says with a smirk, pressing against it again gently, and Patrick would complain except it makes his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh Jesus, oh God,” Patrick pants, and Jonny’s grin turns evil.

“You like that?” Jonny asks, pressing against the spot more firmly before drawing out and pushing back in with what must be another finger because Patrick has to concentrate on relaxing against the intrusion again. “God, Pat, you’re so tight…” 

“I - Jon - oh God,” Patrick groans, throwing an arm over his face so Jonny won’t see how this is taking him apart. “Can you - is that enough?”

“No, baby, you have to relax a little more for me, come on,” Jonny says, and he trails the hand not taking Patrick apart over Patrick’s leg, pressing it back against his chest and out to the side, a stretch that Patrick will never be able to do again without thinking of this moment. It makes him laugh, thinking about trying to keep his thoughts in check on the trainer’s table, and suddenly Jonny’s sliding his fingers in all the way to the knuckle again, pressure firm and sure against Patrick’s prostate from inside even as he rubs below his balls with his thumb from outside. The sensation is like being bathed in pleasure, and his whole body twitches in little pulses as Jonny gently works his body open.

Patrick’s panting by the time Jonny withdraws all the way and reaches for the condom. He watches, wide-eyed as Jonny fits it over his cock and slathers himself with more lube, pausing to push three dripping fingers into Patrick again, the sounds slick and obscene, before he finally moves into place between Patrick’s legs. 

“You ready?” Jonny asks, pushing his fingers in again, and when Patrick nods he leans down and kisses him, deep and long and so, so sweet, and then Patrick feels it: the hard, hot head of his cock where Jonny’s rubbing, pressing against Patrick’s hole. Patrick flinches a little in surprise, even though he knew it was coming. Jonny pulls back and smiles at him, face soft but intent, and then he’s slowly pressing in and. Oh. _That’s Jonny’s cock,_ Patrick thinks dazedly, as it slides in a little farther. Inside of Patrick. Jonny’s got his cock inside of Patrick, and it feels so good, so right.

Patrick gulps air as Jonny feeds him his cock, slowly, so slowly, until he bottoms out, his hips meeting the bottom of Patrick’s ass. The pressure is so much, so good, that all Patrick can feel now is full and overwhelmed and Jesus, he loves Jonny so much. 

He realizes he must be saying it out loud when Jonny leans down to kiss him, murmuring against his lips. “Shh, love you, too, Pat, God, this is - you’re so good, this is so fucking good,” even as he withdraws, before slipping deeper again, using short, shallow thrusts that stoke a fire in Patrick’s belly even before he shifts the angle, hitching Patrick’s knees a little further toward his chest, and slides over that magic spot inside of him.

“Oh my God,” Patrick gasps, and he’s seeing stars behind his eyelids, making Jonny whimper as Patrick clenches down on his cock. Patrick opens his eyes in time to see Jonny bite his lip, and pull all the way back, his gaze locked on the space between them where he’s moving in and out of Patrick. “Look, look at us,” Jonny moans hoarsely. “God, can’t believe I get this, get you like this.” He pulls back out and sets a gentle rhythm, rocking in and out with such tenderness that Patrick has to close his eyes again as tears well up.

“No, don’t. Look at me,” Jonny pleads, his voice cracking. “Pat, Peeks, don’t - you’re so gorgeous like this.” Patrick cracks open his eyes, looking up at Jonny, and gasps at the look on his face, the love he sees there. Jonny smiles before catching his lip in his teeth, biting down hard enough that it turns white under the pressure, and Patrick realizes he’s holding back.

“Don’t - come on, Jon, give it to me, need you to fuck me,” Patrick pants, tears spilling over his cheeks when Jonny thrusts harder, then harder still, rocking into Patrick until Patrick is babbling under him, incoherent and wet-cheeked, Jonny’s name the only word he can form.

Jonny drops his head between his shoulders and pushes Patrick’s knees up higher still, until Patrick’s nearly bent double and it lets Jonny hit that spot over and over, mercilessly. Patrick can feel his orgasm rushing up through his core, but it’s deeper and more intense than anything he’s felt before. He clenches down around Jonny’s cock as it overtakes him, the rhythmic spasms wracking his body with so much sensation that he can’t breathe, and then he’s spurting hot and wild against his chest, Jonny’s chest, even getting a little on Jonny’s chin. Jonny’s making inhuman sounds of pleasure as he comes, too, panting as he drops his head to the crook of Patrick’s neck. He bites down on the tendon there hard enough to make Patrick shout and shudder, the feedback loop between them amping up even higher.

Patrick’s orgasm seems to go on forever, past when Jonny’s done coming, but Jonny doesn’t stop, just whimpers softly even as he continues to fuck into Patrick with his softening dick, and Patrick can’t - he can’t believe how much he’s feeling, and he pulses one more time, almost dry, sobbing, and then he collapses onto Jonny’s sheets, wrung out, sweaty and spent.

Jonny manages to push himself off Patrick, onto his side, and pulls Patrick close, all in one movement; and Patrick mouths at his shoulder blindly. Jonny pats his head, whispering nonsense into Patrick’s hair. They lay there like that for a long time, until Patrick shivers and Jonny groans and sits up, bundling Patrick onto his side. “Gotta get rid of the condom, clean you up,” Jonny says, kissing Patrick’s shoulder gently before padding into the bathroom. He comes back with a glass of water and a towel, and wipes Patrick’s chest and groin. “Sorry, sorry,” Jonny says when he swipes across Patrick’s swollen nipple, and Patrick moans at the sensation, painful and pleasurable in equal measure, his cock twitching weakly.

“Not gonna need that other condom for a while,” Patrick says as Jonny cups his soft cock with reverence and cleans it gently.

“I have faith in you, given the proper motivation,” Jonny says seriously, a twinkle in his eye.

“That ass is great motivation, but unless you’ve got a secret stash of Viagra, I’m down for the count tonight, babe.” Jonny snorts and shakes his head, and Patrick lets his eyes slip closed, breathing quietly as Jonny keeps wiping at the sweat cooling on his body.

Once Patrick’s cleaned up to Jonny’s satisfaction, he makes Patrick sit up and drink some water, and then finally turns him on his side and spoons up behind him in the bed, pulling the sheets over them both. Patrick’s drowsing a little by then, floating in a blissful state of complete exhaustion as the sleepless nights of the past week catch up to him. 

“Pat?” Jonny whispers in his ear. “You sleeping?”

“Nggh,” Patrick says, coughing to clear his throat. “No, I’m - what, babe?”

“Sorry, I just,” Jonny kisses his ear, then his jaw, then the corner of his mouth and Patrick turns his head to meet his mouth awkwardly. They kiss for a minute, the soft, slick sounds of their mouths filling the room, until Jonny pulls back.

“Peeks,” Jonny says, then stops, his voice tight and Patrick turns to look over his shoulder. Jonny’s face is serious, and he looks tense and upset. 

“What?” Patrick’s too tired and too emotionally spent to finesse drawing out whatever feelings Jonny’s wrestling with. “Spit it out, Tazer, you killed me with your cock, and I need to sleep.”

Jonny huffs out a laugh at that, and puts his head on Patrick’s shoulder, wiggling until he’s got Patrick tucked back against his chest, his arms around his chest and pulling him in tight. “It’s nothing, I just. You know, right?”

“Know what?”

“That I love you, Patrick, that I’ve always loved you.”

“Yeah, Jonny, I think I’m finally getting that,” Patrick says, slipping into sleep, happy and safe, and in Jonny’s arms, where he’s always known he belongs.


End file.
